


The special someone

by legolastariel



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: A mixture of humor and darker passages, Teenage Merle and little Daryl, Violence hinted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-04
Updated: 2016-10-04
Packaged: 2018-08-19 12:54:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8209280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/legolastariel/pseuds/legolastariel
Summary: Lorna Dixon, mother of Daryl and Merle, reflects on her life on the side of Will Dixon. On how her dreams and hopes ended the day she met him, although she could have been someone. And then, through something totally unexpected, her brave teenage son Merle and her little sunshine Daryl make her understand, that in fact, she is someone.





	

#  The special someone

Lorna Dixon woke from her slumber with a start and sat up too quickly, a sharp pain ripping through her skull the same moment. 

She had no idea what had woken her, but she knew what had made her fall asleep – on the couch, in her clothes. Jack Daniel’s had stopped by again – her best, her _only_ friend these days. 

What time was it? How long did she sleep? She couldn’t tell. It was dark, there was no one around, no sound from outside – was it nights already? Did she feed the boys? Unlikely, but Merle had probably taken care of … whatever needed to be taken care of. He had done so for the longest time. 

With a moan she ran her shaking hands over pale, tired features, that looked way too haggard for a woman her age, even on her good days. She would have sneered at that – _what_ good days?

She thought she heard sounds from the back of the house. A voice that sounded like her teenage son Merle and … something else. A squealing, as though someone was in pain. Was that Daryl?

She was aware of the fact, that she was unlikely to win the ‘mother of the year’ award, and yet the _mommy alarm_ went off in the back of her mind. He wouldn’t!

         _“No”,_ she thought a second later, _“he wasn’t home. Lord be praised for small favors.”_

__

_ He _ would be her good-for-nothing husband Will Dixon. Why did it have to be him? She had asked herself that a gazillion times over the past fifteen years. She’d been so young when she met him, and she’d been pretty. She could have been someone.

         Lorna wasn’t dumb, she had education, didn’t come from the worst kind of family, either. But her parents had been a twelve on a one to ten scale of strictness. She hadn’t been allowed parties, going out, dancing, fancy clothes, alcohol, music – unless it was the church choir – and definitely no boys. She’d been allowed school and Bible lessons, and when she turned sixteen, she had run away to finally _live._

She could have gone far, could have started over some place else – the _right_ place, with the _right_ person. But she hadn’t gotten further than a truck stop a few miles away from home, where she’d run into Will Dixon the very same day.

There is was again. A sound as though someone was screaming, but it was muffled, as though the person’s mouth was covered by something. Her pulse picked up. What was going on there? She struggled to her feet. 

She could have had a life, a good life. But that bitch Fate had her meet _him._ The girls in school had fancied the California beach boy type of boys back then, with model features, big blue eyes, toothpaste commercial smile and preferably blond hair. She never understood that. 

         “Ya want Barbie’s Ken, go ta the nearest Toys R Us”, she used to say.

And Will Dixon was nothing like Ken. When she met him, his hair had been dark and too long. He’d been unkempt, smelled of cigarettes and beer and the way he smiled should have warned, not attracted her. He had blue eyes alright, but they were far from being the big, round puppy kind – they were narrow and bore a piercing look, like a cat waiting for its prey. 

The entire man spoke of danger and after sixteen years of Bible lessons and boredom, danger was exactly what Lorna had been attracted to. 

She should have turned and run, but she stayed. Hadn’t her father told her often enough that the devil came in various disguises? 

         _“Well, if he did”,_ she had figured, _“he would choose a less suspicious and obvious disguise – like Barbie’s Ken.”_ She realized her mistake too late.

They had had some fun together in the beginning, that much she had to admit. Around him there was parties, alcohol and music – excitement and _life,_ finally. Sex and drugs had been added shortly after. 

By the time she was seventeen she was an addict – and pregnant. That was when he hit her the first time. For _being stupid enough to get herself knocked up._

He could have left her right there and then, but even in Will Dixon must have been some trace of decency. And so he had stayed, even married her. She was eighteen when Merle was born and her life ended. 

She could have been someone. Now all she was, was an abused, addicted teenage mother of a little boy, who was born without a chance into a world, where no one wanted him. All her dreams and hopes and plans had dissolved into thin air. 

Lorna stumbled down the corridor to her sons’ bedroom. She could clearly hear Merle’s voice now, although he tried to speak quietly.

         “Will ya shut up now, ya li’l idiot, or d’ya want me ta shove yer head down the toilet?”

A tiny smile tugged at the corners of the young woman’s mouth.

An empty threat, that much she was certain of. In all of this, Merle had been her only anchor to sanity and a light at the end of the tunnel. 

It should have been her protecting her children, taking care of them, being the stronger one, but in fact, it was her firstborn, who held things together.

He had grown tall quickly, as though he knew that he had to, if he meant to survive in this world, in this family. By the time he was twelve he was as tall as his father; by fourteen he was just as strong and often enough he had taken the blows meant for her. It shouldn’t have been that way, but she was too far gone already to still fight. 

She pushed the door to the boys’ room open and turned the lights on in the same motion.

         “What happened?” she gasped anxiously.

Two sets of blue eyes looked at her in surprise, then at each other. At last little five-year-old Daryl cocked his head and said:

         “Nothin' happened, mommy. I's just showin' Merle the song I learned yesterday.”

The teenage boy shrugged his shoulders and cut in:

         “Some twerp thought it funny ta teach him Christmas songs”, he said gravely, not mentioning that his baby brother had been teased about how Santa would probably forget him again this year, so he should at least know a couple of songs like a _normal_ kid. 

         “See”, the older boy commented dryly to his brother, “told ya, ya was singin' too loud.”

The woman’s eyebrows rose to her hairline.

         “Singing?” she asked cautiously, stunned that the noise, that sounded as though someone got their fingernails pulled out, was only her youngest son’s attempt to sing. 

Shadow blue eyes lit up with pride and had Lorna bite her lip. 

Daryl had been an accident. She had tried so hard not to have another baby, to not bring another poor soul into this nightmare of a family, but sometimes the best laid plans went awry. 

She still remembered the moment she had first looked at the small bundle in her arms and _his_ eyes had looked right back at her. She had wanted to scream back then.

But while Merle had apparently set his mind on growing taller and stronger than his old man to be able to protect his mother and baby brother as much as possible, Daryl’s plan seemed to be to bring some sunshine into this house. He may have been a younger copy of Will Dixon as far as looks were concerned, but inside the two couldn’t have been more unlike. 

Daryl was gentle and caring in a way Will had never been. Or Merle for that matter. He touched a soft spot inside of Lorna, that she had concidered dead for a long time. Life was unfair. Especially Daryl deserved better than this family. 

         “Yeah”, his young voice derailed her train of thought, “ ’s a nice song I been practicin' for Chrissmas.”

         “Christmas.”

         “ ‘s what I said – Chrissmas. Wanna hear it again?”

         _Gosh, no!_ “Sure, honey, but maybe a little lat…”

Her attempt to bring to her sons’ attention that it was 4:30 in the morning was drowned in Daryl’s loud squealing:

         “Gloooooria! _Gloooria!_ ”

Lorna’s headache increased instantly and she craved an Aspirin badly, when the noise Daryl let pass as ‘singing’ stopped abruptly and he asked:

         “Mom, who’s that Gloria person anyway?”

The young mother suppressed a smile and instead of giving her younger son a lecture on the Latin language, she opted for flattering, hoping to be able to go to bed and blind out the world once more.

         “I wouldn’t know, honey, but she’s a lucky woman ta have someone sing about her so wonderfully. Can we go back to …”

         “If ya like the song, I sing ya some more. ‘kay? Gloooria!!!!!! _Glooooria!!_ Exercise and deo.”

This time Lorna couldn’t help snorting with laughter, before she quickly contained herself again.

         “Er, Daryl, what? Exercise and deo?”

Merle shrugged his shoulders.

         “I told him the word was deorant … deodrant …”

         “Deodorant,” Lorna offered helpfully.

         “Right. I guess the word’s too long to match the time, but why is there a Christmas song about some chick and her deorant … deodrant …”

         “Deodorant.”

         “Right – that. Why‘s there a song about that anyway?”

Lorna bit her lip in a desperate attempt not to crack up. Then she said:

“You guys, I think those lyrics run ‘In excelsis deo’.”

Two sets of eyes widened and the brothers exchanged a confused look.

         “Gloria’s deorant is in _what?”_ Merle asked with puckered brows. 

The young mother’s amusement faded and made room for anger deep down inside. She was sure her boys weren’t dumb, but they never really had a chance. She knew how those lyrics ran and what they meant, because her parents had sent her to good schools. Merle and Daryl grew up in the streets and had been able to swear like sailors, before they knew that a thing like _Chrissmas_ even existed. In another world, they could have been someone, go far – but from the looks of it, they would be just what their father had been all his life; what she was now, too. Nobody. Nothing. 

         “Okay, boys, tell ya what – we all go back to bed now and try ta get some more sleep and I’ll tell ya ‘bout Gloria and her deodorant later. Deal?” 

Little Daryl curled his lips instantly.

         “Ya didn’t like the song.”

         “Baby, I love it – just not at 4:30 in the morning. Mommy needs some more sleep. Okay?”

He looked back at her with wide eyes, drinking in the praise and attention like a sponge. It didn’t happen often, that someone paid attention to him. That he was told, that whatever he just did was well done. Most times Lorna was too absorbed by bitterness and depressions to pay attention to her children at all. And they were lucky when Will wasn’t around. His way of paying attention to them was calling them names, pushing them out of his way or ordering them to get him some beer. And that was what he did on his _good_ days. 

With a lump in her throat she remembered how Daryl had brought home an injured rabbit just the other day, planning in all earnest to patch it up and keep it as a pet.

         “Whadda ya know”, Will had sneered. “That’s ma boy. Only five years old and brings home his first game already.” 

He had declared the rabbit dinner and had killed it right there and then. Daryl had cried for hours and had opted for going to bed hungry that night – not the first night – after his father had smacked him up the side of his head for being such a pussy. 

Lorna swallowed hard when she recalled the conversation between the brothers, that she had overheard later.

         “’Twas just a rabbit, Daryl. Ya can’t take things to heart like that, li’l brother.”

         “Just wanted a friend, ‘s all, Merle.”

         “Ya don’t need friends as long as ya got me. All 'em emotional ties 's just dangerous – entirely overrated crap. Us Dixons, we’re better on our own, baby brother. If ya ain’t lovin' nobody, ain’t no one able ta hurt ya.”

It made her sad, that Merle thought that way and was teaching Daryl his bitter philosophies. Things could have have been different for her, if she had had a friend back then to protect her from herself, to catch her when she was falling, to get her back on track, to fight the battles when she wasn’t able to. Someone who would just _be_ there when the going got tough, to lend a shoulder to lean on and give some affection in an otherwise hostile and joyless world. 

Maybe Merle was too far gone already to see that he was wrong. But Daryl …  


“Mom, what’s Chrissmas anyway?” the boy’s voice asked innocently and brought her back to the here and now.

Lorna couldn’t help sighing.

         “It’s kinda like a birthday party for someone, who once said, it’d be a good idea for everybody ta be nice to each other. But they didn’t listen. They still don’t.”

She grabbed the boy’s shoulders and looked him deep in the eyes.

         “This is why ya gotta promise me something, Daryl. Don’t listen ta yer brother in everything, especially when it comes to having friends or loving people. ‘s important ta have friends – at least one. No one should be alone in all this.” She made a wide gesture around herself. “Ya need someone by yer side. Someone who cares. Someone who appreciates and trusts ya.”

         “But all the kids out there are just laughin' at me and Merle. They don’t wanna be friends with us.”

         “I know, baby, but one day there’ll be someone. Someone special. Someone smarter than those little monsters out there. Someone, who’ll know yer heart and see yer true colors. And he or she is gonna love ya for them.”

         “How will I know them, if I meet them?” 

         “If that someone does as much for ya as ya wanna do for them, then you’ll know.” 

The boy thought about that for a moment, before he gave a curt nod and wrapped his arms around her middle to give her a hug. 

         “Can’t wait”, he said quietly. 

She hesitated, but then she ran her hand gently over his unruly hair, breathing in deep.   
Lorna Dixon never saw the day that her son found that special someone. It would take another forty years and the world to end for Daryl to meet Rick Grimes, the one person, who ever truly knew his heart and saw his true colors.   
But she came to realize something that day – that being someone and going far, didn’t mean one had to be rich and famous. She _was_ someone after all. She was the mother of Merle and Daryl Dixon, and especially Daryl would make a difference one day, most of all for that special someone. And whoever it was, they were one lucky person.

 

Five minutes later Lorna was lying in her bed and curled into a tight ball under her covers. Despite of her shitty life and her splitting headache, she couldn’t help giggling. 

         “Gloria and her _deorant_ ”, she snickered.

Just when a deep peaceful slumber had claimed her, she was roused from it mercilessly once more.

         “Deck the walls …!!!”

The rest of the latest song performance was drowned in her heavy sigh.

         “That’s _halls_ , Darylena.”

         “What halls?”   
          
         “I dunno _what_ halls.”

         “Then how d’ya know ’s not the walls? Or the walls of the halls?”

         “Daryl, it ain’t _yer_ song, so it’s not _yer_ lyrics, either, and ya have ta sing it the way it’s right.”

         “That sucks.” 

         “Christmas songs never suck.”

         “That one does, if they deck any stupid halls. I wanna deck the walls.”

         “But yer not allowed ta change it.”

         “Don’t care. It sucks.”

         “Does not.”

         “Does too.”

         “Does not. That one is actually cool – there’s even a troll in it.”

Shadow blue eyes grew large.

         “A troll?”

         “Sure. _Troll the Ancient_ … Kinda stupid name, right? Anyway, some chick named Carol’s in there, too, but she probably gets eaten by the troll.”

         “Really?!” 

Daryl was immensely fascinated by that song all of the sudden.

         “Who gets eaten by a troll, boys?” a tired voice sounded from the door.

         “Carol.”

         “Who’s Carol?”

Merle shrugged his shoulders once more.

         “Dunno. Probably a friend of Gloria’s.” 

Daryl nodded his agreement.

         “Think Gloria’s gonna help Carol deck the walls, Merle?”

         “Halls! And, no, ‘cause she gets eaten by the troll, remember?”

Lorna looked from one of her sons to the other and back, absolutely positive that this was just a nightmare and that she was in fact unmarried, didn’t have any kids and would go on a cruise to the Caribbean as soon as she woke up. 

         “Look, Gloria, Carol _and Lorna_ need some more sleep now! Understood? It’s five o’clock in the morning. So, Daryl, if you wanna sing anymore songs, do it later – much later. And, Merle, I’m putting ya in charge here.”

She would have loved to be able to add something like “I got a workday ahead”, but in fact she hadn’t had one single workday in her entire life. All she had ahead, was another boring, dull day, with nothing to do but worry about an empty fridge, a husband who would come home from a bender in the mood to work off his frustration and fury on her and the kids, and the need for more Jack Daniel’s. A workday in some stupid office would have been heaven. 

While Daryl decided to pout again, Merle beamed with pride to have been put in charge and nodded eagerly. 

         “Ya got it, mom. I’m gonna make him shut up.”

Lorna looked at the teenager and couldn’t help frowning. 

         “Merle …”

         “It’ll be alright, mom. Just go ta sleep.”

Something in his eyes calmed her and had the alarm bells in the back of her mind go quiet. Something that told her silently:

_          “I ain’t like ma father. True, I ain’t no saint and I ain’t gonna win the ‘brother of the year’ award, but ’m gonna do what I can ta take care a' ma baby brother. May not be much. May not be enough in the long run. But it’ll tide him over till someone else ‘s gonna do a better job than me. There’s someone out there, who’s gonna love our Darylena and who’s worthy of his affection in return. And ‘m gonna make sure ta keep him safe by teachin' him how ta defend himself, how ta stay on top a' things out there on his own, so he can meet that someone one day. Ain’t no one ever gonna care for him the way I does. Ain’t gonna pamper him, ain’t gonna sing no lullabies or hold his hand – ’m gonna push him and show him that life ain't got no soft spot for Dixons. Gonna make sure he survives till he finds that someone, who’s gonna give him what I cannot. Ain’t no one ever gonna love him the way I does – but maybe more, different, the way he needs 'em to. One day. Sleep tight, mom. I’m here.” _

The young mother took a last long look at her boys, before nodding silently and pulling the door gently close behind her.

         “Ya heard her, goofy, shut up and go back ta bed.”

Daryl hung his head and crawled under the covers of his bed quietly. Then he said:

         “Ya didn’t like the songs, did ya?” 

Merle sat down on the edge of his brother’s bed and looked at him sternly.

         “No. ‘s not the songs, just the fact that Christmas ain’t workin' for Dixons, Daryl. Ya best understand that. Santa’s a fat, old jackass, who’s afraid ta get his fancy monkey suit dirty in this neighborhood, so ya best not wait for him ta ever show up here.”

         “’kay.” 

The older boy saw the disappointment in his brother’s eyes, but Daryl had to learn to live with disappointment and setbacks. They were going to happen a lot to him in the years to come. 

         “Tell ya what. If ya don’t act like a big baby any longer, ‘m gonna take ya along on ma huntin’ trips and teach ya some tracking. ‘s way better than fuckin' Christmas.”

Daryl looked up at him through way too long bangs.

         “Yeah?”

         “Sure, ya twerp. Christmas ‘s only one day a year. ‘m gonna take ya along all the time. And if ya learn ta be quiet out there and track some game, ‘m even gonna give ya ma old huntin’ knife.”

         “The one ya stole from dad? One he wouldn’t let ya have?” 

         “Exactly. Let’s just say, it’s an early inheritance. Old fart owes us and if ya ain’t a poor excuse for a Dixon anymore, ya earn it. Deal?”

The sadness in Daryl’s eyes vanished and made room for a happy sparkle. 

         “Deal.” 

         “Gimme five, li’l brother!” 

He slapped his hand against his brother’s way smaller one.

         “And now go ta sleep already.”

         “Can I sleep in yer bed tonight, Merle?”

The older boy’s eyes widened.

         “Hell, no. Yer nuts? What did I just say about bein’ a baby?”

         “I heard ya. Can I start bein’ a big boy tomorrow? Please?”

Merle hesitated a moment, then he shrugged.

          “I guess. But ya best don’t snore or fart or wipe yer nose on ma PJs or pee the bed, unless ya wanna have yer head end up in the toilet after all.” 

         “’kay”, Daryl said in a small voice, before getting up and crawling under the covers of Merle’s bed. 

He never saw the grin on his brother’s face. Another empty threat. Merle dropped onto the bed beside Daryl and turned the bedside lamp off. A moment later he felt the young boy snuggle up to him and only seconds later, Daryl’s soft snoring filled the room, bringing another grin to the teenager’s face. He turned his head and in the twilight of their bedroom, illuminated only by a faint glow of a streetlamp outside their window, Merle Dixon looked at the sleeping bundle at his side. In an impulse, he had no explanation for, he bent over and placed a gentle kiss on his brother’s unruly hair. 

         “Sleep tight, ya ugly li’l toad”, he whispered with a smile. 

 

\- The end - 


End file.
